


knight finds giant flashlight

by Chatika (salamanderssmile)



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Casually Not Heterosexual, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Near Death Experiences, Panic and Despair, in a way at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 03:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamanderssmile/pseuds/Chatika
Summary: "Good hunter, have you seen the thread of light?Just a hair, a fleeting thing, yet I clung to it, steeped as I was in the stench of blood and beasts."Lost and alone, Ludwig finds the thread of light in the darkest of moments. His true mentor. His guiding moonlight.





	knight finds giant flashlight

Ludwig never expected the labyrinths beneath Yharnam to be so extensive. Indeed, he had been warned they were impressive to a terrifying degree, but their sheer depth was stunning. The inhabitants, then, were otherwordly. Lanky and pale, the ones most commonly seen were the average size of a human, but some towered over them, easily twice their size. The undead giants, with altars of candles on their shoulders. It all contributed to the feeling of the passages being detached from the real world on the surface. 

It was funny to him, how much he had to relearn to be able to fight the creatures. He had been trained a soldier and a knight, but he had been unprepared to be a hunter. Ludwig was most grateful to Gehrman for teaching him. He had his doubts at first, about the older man, with his suspicion and harsh view of reality. Yet, in time, he came to understand why Maria, in her royal status, would abandon Cainhurst to train with the man. In fact, Gehrman's tutelage was what allowed him, Ludwig, to scout ahead for one of the many Byrgenwerth expeditions. The old man would never allow someone that wasn't a hunter to do such a daunting task. The labyrinths were much too dangerous for mere soldiers.

And so lost was he in his deluge of thoughts, that he didn't notice the darkness slowly encroaching around him as he took a path he would not remember. A trap sprung right beneath him - a section of the floor, from wall to wall, rising with exponentially increasing speed, about to slam onto the ceiling. He rolled off, dust and grime and mold smearing his clothes and face. His weapon, a greatsword with a retractable blade that could mimic a spear, clattered loudly by him as he hit the base floor again, on the other side of the now cut off corridor. His torch, however, was nowhere to be seen. Indeed, he was not doing much of seeing at all. The pitch black darkness of the labyrinths closed around him, greedily enveloping him in its talons. He pat the floor in search of his trick sword, taking a hold of its hilt with both his hands. 

Slowly, Ludwig rose to his feet, trying to figure out a way to return to the expedition. He couldn't remember exactly where he was, or where he came from. There were landmarks and rooms flashing in his mind, but nothing that could help him. Oh, what had he done? He was lost, without any source of light, in the most unforgiving place known. He could very much die down there, all alone... No. He would not fall to despair. He was a hunter and a knight and he would see this through.

With a deep breath, he reached for the wall with his left hand, and started walking, tips of his fingers gently trailing the moulding stone. He walked and walked for what seemed were hours, but could have been mere minutes; the darkness made it hard to know. A crack and a guttural moan to his right had him at the ready, greatsword in hand, breaths shaky. A draft of air blew in, and when he took silent steps forward, Ludwig felt, for he certainly couldn't see, the corridor had opened into a room. The guttural sound grew in intensity until he knew whatever it was was right in front of him. His lungs emptied of their own accord in his fear. He set his stance at the ready, and closed his eyes with a deep breath. He heard the beast's talons scraping the floor and dodged to the right, gust of wind from its movement blowing on his cheeks. As fast as he could, he swung his sword in a vertical arc, throwing all his weight into it. Blood splattered on him as the weapon connected with his target, the satisfying crack of broken bones and torn flesh following the tremor up his arms. The beast screeched an ungodly sound in its pain and anger, and he was quick to down his sword onto it again, silencing the cacophony for good. He was panting as he lifted his weapon, adrenaline coursing through him in waves. He was about to move again when something hit him from above, pinning him to the floor, his leg stuck at a painful angle. It was much too heavy for him to muscle off, and he squirmed, panic rising in his guts like a swarm of insects. The thing's claws dug into his skin, bypassing the cloth and leather as if they weren't there. It roared in satisfaction, a sound that would have been a howl, but was much too growly. Ludwig scrambled, with reduced mobility, to transform his weapon - which he, thankfully, hadn't dropped this time. He couldn't know if it worked, because the beast descended upon him, biting his shoulder with such force he was almost certain it broke bone. He screamed in agony, loud and pained, and desperately attempted to hurt the beast with the short spear in his hand. At least the proximity made it easy to hit in his blindness, but the angle was too awkward for a truly forceful blow. In a last, dreadful measure, he inverted the grip he had on the weapon and used it as a dagger, hoping to pierce the flesh between the thing's ribs.

The blade connected to something, and the beast let go of his shoulder with a breathless noise. A sob broke loose from Ludwig's lungs and only then he noticed he was crying. Whimpering, he crawled out from under the massive corpse. His shoulder hurt so much he was dizzy, the stench of blood, both his and the beasts', eating away at his resolve. The hot liquid quickly soaking his clothes had his throat closed in dread. So much blood, he needed help. If only Laurence was there with him...

A sob wrenched itself from his lungs again as he thought of the medic. Oh, they were waiting for him, and he was lost, and all alone in the darkness. "Gehrman, Maria, Laurence... Oh, please, someone, help me..." Ludwig cried, quiet and shaky. Grasping his hurt shoulder with the opposite hand, he stumbled away from the beasts, neglecting to take his trick weapon again. What use had he for it in such a state? He found stairs after blindly shuffling around the room. Leaning against the wall against which the stairwell was built, he climbed the steps, hot tears streaming down his face. He felt exhausted by bloodloss and fear, and the darkness bore down upon him, oppressive. He just wanted to find his way back; didn't want to die alone, drowning in the stench of blood and beasts and mold.

Stumbling his way through more corridors and hallways, something caught Ludwig's eye. A small wisp of light, barely a thread of silver that shone for a second and slipped away. A sob died in his throat. He was already going mad, terrific. He always knew he'd be the first to do it, really. But the tiny lights, short lived as they were, conferred him great comfort in the dark. He followed them, wherever they were leading, because it was better than wandering without a clue of where he was. The silvery wisps lead him into a right turn at an intersection, and he ran as he heard shambling steps behind him, tripping on unseen objects, but never falling. He couldn't afford to fall. His despair trailed after him like a silent stalker, and he whimpered as his shoulder moved.

After he covered what he thought was a significant distance, he slowed down to a walk. The wisps were more plentiful there, and guided him into another turn to the right. In the distance, he saw light. Eerie purplish light, the kind only seen in the depths of the labyrinths, but light nonetheless. Tears streamed down his dirty face again, except those were not of fear, but hope, joy. He stumbled into the room, and was surprised to find a vent leading into the surface. It was built so the moonlight actually reached an altar in the middle of the room. Ludwig fell in front of it, leaning his head against the dusty stone, pain and exhaustion washing over him in waves. After several breaths, he took his hand from his shoulder to brace against the altar, lifting himself into a standing position. In front of him, atop the table, blade carefully wrapped in what had once been beautifully embroidered white linen, was a claymore. A massive weapon, length-wise, with a hilt guard of matching proportions. Gently, enraptured by his curiosity, he reached for the edge of the linen and unraveled it with as much care as he could. The metal was a beautiful shade of silver, so much so it seemed to dance where the moonlight touched it. His fingers did softly trail down the blade until they wrapped around the hilt. Pain somehow forgotten in his mind, he reached for the weapon with his other hand, tracing the engravings on the metal with his fingertips as he lifted it from the altar.

Ludwig gasped, wide eyed in surprise, as the moonlight coalesced beneath his hand, enwreathing the sword in green-blue waves. The wisps danced, smaller still, around it, painted by the hard light. He grasped the hilt with both hands, holding it near his chest, tip pointing at his savior, the moonlight. Even as down the stairs behind the altar something stirred, the resolution in his heart did not waver. He would survive this. The towering pthumerian knight climbed the steps towards him as Ludwig walked around the altar, blade of moonlight in hand. Both their movements were slow and measured. The knight lunged forward, swinging his sword in a deadly arc that Ludwig ducked under. So close to the unbalanced knight, he thrust his blade between two plates of the undead's armor, feeling the coalesced moonlight perforate its way into the being's chest. With one deep breath from him, the blade exploded in a vortex of light, tearing apart Ludwig's opponent from the inside, working in tandem with its wielder as if made for him. Though his shoulder once again hurt enough to leave him gasping, he smirked, satisfied, as he pulled out the claymore and set it over his healthy one. 

The lower floor had a doorway, to the left, leading into a room as dark as the rest of the unlit labyrinth. Ludwig gingerly trailed his fingers over the engravings on the blade again, careful not to jostle his shoulder further as light coalesced once more. He headed out into the hall, guided by the moonlight on his hands. He found himself on a platform overlooking a lower floor with a doorway to a hall he remembered. He was so close... Distantly, he heard someone calling his name. Was it Gehrman?

"Hello?" Ludwig shouted back. "I am here! I'm not dead!"

Again, the sounds were distant, but unmistakably human in their commotion. Oh, if he had any tears left, he could cry in relief. He was back. He had survived. He did it. With a deep breath, he jumped off the platform, vision going black for an instant in the pain of impact as he hit the floor. The moonlight sword clacked noisily against the stone as his right arm was the only thing really keeping him from collapsing. He rose to stand with some effort, breathing the coalesced light into dispersing. He limped towards the hall, hearing Gehrman's telltale gait, followed by others.

"Ludwig? Where are you, boy?" Gehrman called. So close...

Leaning against the doorway, with a tired smile, covered in blood both his and not, grimy with mold and dust and dirt from stumbling around the labyrinth's deeper passages, he answered. "Here. I'm here."

Gehrman ran at him, grasping Ludwig's face with his hands, turning it this side and that, patting his torso in search of broken ribs. Ludwig leaned heavily against him, feeling light headed and a little bit nauseated. He had his eyes closed when another pair of hands gently prodded his shoulder, taking away dirty fabric and leather to expose the wound.

"What hurt you like this?" Laurence asked, but he was too tired to answer, simply shaking his head.

"A beast, if I had to wager a guess." Maria, who might as well had been a scholar, if only her skill with blades wasn't phenomenal.

"I agree, yes."

"Of course, teeth marks. I should have known." Laurence's fingers were warm against him, still analyzing the wound. "I will take him back up, and give him stitches. He lost so much blood..."

"Hmm, Maria, go with them. Never know when they'll need help."

"Of course, Master Gehrman. Though the only help he will apparently need is to tow Ludwig." The younger hunter pointed at the knight, with his eyes closed and breathing deep.

"Oh, wonderful..." Laurence quipped in just to make sure his displeasure was known. Still, his voice was tinged with worry.

"I am... still... here." Ludwig said, and promptly passed out, sword somehow still held tight in his grip.

  


Sunlight from a warm sunset streamed in from the window, warming his cold blankets. The smell of clean wood and chemicals was somewhat comforting, if only for how different it was from moulding stone. He shivered, clammy cold, but comfortable in the soft sheets. With a sigh, he opened his eyes, catching the straw yellow blonde hair, gold in the sun, at the corner of his eyes. He tried to move to sit up, only for a hand to push his chest down again. 

"Don't you dare." Laurence said softly, with a tired and bored tone. The medic sighed, fingers curling on the blankets. "You almost killed us. We were so very worried."

Ludwig pat his hand, fingers resting in the space between the others'. "I apologize. It was not my intent."

"I know, my friend, I know." A sigh again, before he took Ludwig's wrist in his hand to feel for his pulse. "Just, please, don't do it again? I don't think old Gehrman's heart will bear it."

Ludwig laughed, lifting his chin so the other man could feel the pulse on his neck. "And then you will save him, as you always do."

"You put too much faith in me." Laurence's hand was warm on his skin, like the sunlight.

"It's well deserved, Doctor Laurence." He smiled, sunny, to his friend.

"Oh, dear... Don't say that. Yet." Laurence smiled back as he stood up from the chair by the bed. "I will bring you some water and something to eat. Do not even think of standing up. I stitched that wound, I know you were fighting with that mangled shoulder."

The medic's disapproval was poignant, but Ludwig only shrugged, regretting immediately as the blonde's frown intensified. "It was needed."

"I wonder if gigantic swords are also 'needed', or if you are simply trying to subliminally convey something." Laurence was less than amused, but his wit was enough to send Ludwig into a fit of laughter. "Gehrman was not happy when he noticed your death grip was not on your sword-spear."

"I'll be sure to apologize to him once you are done doting over me."

"And I will be sure to stitch your mouth together as well as your wounds next time." Laurence answered with a raised eyebrow and downturned lips.

"But then you will lose your favorite smiles." Ludwig contested, coy smirk on his face.

"Ah, I see." Laurence sighed, overdramatic and mock suffering. "My one weakness: beautiful men. How foolish I was to let you discover such."

"It is, after all, a thing we have in common." Ludwig's smirk turned into a full blown smile. "Perhaps we should ask Maria for some classes."

The line had them both laughing as the medic headed out of the room. As he stepped out the door, Ludwig called out for him again.

"Yes? Is anything the matter? Don't hesitate to tell me. You lost so much blood, Ludwig." The medic immediately answered, worry setting in him like a second skin.

"Where is the sword? The one I was carrying." Ludwig asked.

"Maria took it to the workshop after we brought you here." Laurence said, frowning, puzzled. His eyelashes looked glittery on the dimming sunlight. "I'm certain she will come by with Gehrman, if you are still curious by then."

Ludwig sighed and nodded. "Very well. Thank you, Laurence. For taking care of me, as well."

"Of course I would." The medic smiled, soft and fond, at him. "But... Why? We thought you had simply used the sword as a substitute."

Ludwig's smile was small as he looked down at his blankets. "It is much more. Without it, I would not have found you again... It was my guide."

Laurence nodded, eyebrow suspiciously raised. He turned back to the hallway, steps fading away with the sunlight. Ludwig sighed once more. At least he was used to being called crazy. The darkness flooded the room, and for a moment his breath was knocked out of his chest, mind living through being lost and wounded again. But silvery light slowly came to him, dancing on his skin and blankets like the tide over sand. His breathing and heartbeat slowed with it, mind clinging to it as it dragged itself out of the stench of blood and beasts. His saving grace. His guiding moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> ludwig, at 2hp: im fine.  
> laurence already knows ludwig's dick size, he really just says that for the drama of it all.  
> no, they aren't together.
> 
> y e t . ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


End file.
